Epilogophilia: Brother, Can You Spare a Crime?
by owlcroft
Summary: A few petunias, a quick side-step, a seed of suspicion is planted.


**Epilogophilia: Brother, Can You Spare A Crime**

_Hardcastle's brother, Gerald, shows up for a visit after a gap of ten years. The judge immediately suspects Gerry of needing money for his gambling habit, but Gerry's problem is more serious than a mere debt. He's actually being threatened by a hood named Manny and tries to clear himself by giving Manny a tip on the result of a highly-publicized trial. Unfortunately for Gerry, the trial doesn't go the way the trial judge had predicted and Hardcastle and McCormick are drawn into the affair. The threesome crack the murder case, Gerry saves his brother from being shot, then swears he's through with gambling for good._

**Epilogue** _--_ Owlcroft

"Oh, I knew it." Hardcastle shook his head sadly. "I knew that was gonna happen."

McCormick looked up at him from the border of petunias he was weeding. "What? What are you looking at?" He got up and brushed dirt and blades of grass from the knees of his jeans. "_The Daily Journal_?"

The judge tapped the page on the glass-topped table in front of him with a finger. "Right here, see? Sheila Mooney. I knew they couldn't let that pass."

Mark looked at him patiently. "Sooner or later, I'll worm it out of you, so you might as well give up and tell me now."

"Aw, she got publicly admonished. It coulda been worse." Hardcastle leaned an elbow on the table and scowled at the article in the legal newspaper. "She coulda gotten _censured_, but I guess they figured first offense, spur of the moment kinda thing, and let it go with admonishment."

"Who did?" McCormick lowered himself into the chair opposite the judge.

"The Committee on Judicial Performance, that's who. She knew better than to go flapping her gums about a case she was presiding over." Hardcastle glared at the newspaper. "Dammit. This is all Gerry's fault."

Mark grinned at him. "Yeah, that dirty, rotten Gerry. He _forced _her to tell us about the trial. I remember her screaming for mercy when he started heating up the branding irons." He held up an arm and cringed in mock terror. "Oh, the cruelty! The inhuman--"

"Okay, knock it off," the judge growled. "You know what I mean. She'd never have said anything if he hadn't been there." He shook his head again and sighed. "Her career's never gonna really recover from this, ya know."

McCormick looked at him with brows raised. "You really think she was trying to impress _Gerry_? Hardcase, you are _nuts_." He grinned slyly at the older man. "She was trying to impress _you_, Judge."

"_Me_? You're the one who's a few coconuts shy of a palm tree." Hardcastle swiped a hand across his chin and considered for a moment. "Me? You really think so? Nah, she knew she didn't hafta impress _me_." He gazed into the distance for a few moments. "You think so?"

Mark chuckled and went back to the petunia border. "Look, she sure wasn't trying to make points with _me_."

"Yeah, hey," said the judge abruptly. "What was with all the legal expertise? You were kinda being the bright little star of jurisprudence there for a while, weren't ya?"

"Just re-phrasing some of the stuff you'd been hammering me over the head with for a coupla years," replied McCormick, without looking up from the dirt he was troweling.

Hardcastle observed him a little more closely. "You sure you know which ones are weeds, there? And looking back at it, it seems to me you sounded like you'd been doing some heavy thinking, or maybe even some research--"

"You know what you oughta do, Judge?" interrupted McCormick. Without waiting for an answer, he hurried on. "You oughta call up Judge Mooney and take her out to dinner. I mean, she's gotta be feeling a little upset, maybe even a _lot_ upset, over this admonishment stuff. She's gonna need a friend, you know, somebody she can talk to, somebody who knows what she's going through." He troweled vigorously without looking up. "Somebody who can sympathize with her, maybe give her a little good advice, somebody who _cares_. Yep, that's definitely what you should do. Go on, give her a call. You got her number, right? Hey, it's probably in the Rolodex. I'll go get it." Mark finally paused for a second, then added, as he headed for the steps up to the kitchen, "Don't worry about me, Judge. I can just have that leftover chili. Take her someplace nice, okay? A bottle of wine with dinner, I can come pick you two up, that's not a problem. Take her mind off it for an evening." His voice trailed off as the kitchen door closed behind him.

The judge sat looking after him suspiciously. Finally, he shook himself and muttered, "I dunno what's going on, but sooner or later, I'll worm it out of him," and went back to reading the paper.


End file.
